The Family Line
by Watson'sGirl
Summary: Sherlock Holmes and John Watson have been in a happy and committed relationship since their teenage years. Solving cases and catching criminals is never an easy job, but Sherlock and John try to juggle their careers and raising their children, they soon find that it is an impossible job. Established Johnlock & Parentlock, with flashes of Teen lock. Sherlock/John and Mycroft/Molly


**I do not own Sherlock, or its characters, they belong to their respected owners. I only own my OC and any other I chose to introduce on the future.**

**So here it is. The first chapter of the most requested story. It was a very close call between this and a Victorian AU of Sherlock.**

**The first few chapters will be a little short as I mainly want to give a background of John and Sherlock's time at univeristy and the events leading up to Parentlock.**

**I wrote this in about two hours, so please forgive me if it is terrible or any stupid spelling mistakes.**

**Feel free to tell me of any one shots you would like to see happen and I will try my hardest to include them.**

**Any transcript is courtesy of Arian DeVere.**

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

><p>The Family Line<p>

**September 1989**

The first few days of the term were always the most hectic. There would be the new starters, the first years as they were labelled, could be found wondering around the university grounds like a herd of sheep as they followed the map they were given in their welcome pack. Be a first year was tough.

Well not for John. No. He had been there and done that.

John Hamish Watson would be beginning his third year at Cambridge University, which as it is commonly misinterpreted as a place for the higher society to enrol their children as if to say to the world – look at my son or daughter, aren't they clever. Or, aren't we rich?

Well the Watson's certainly were not rich, in face John's parents could barely scrape the money together to send John to a less supported university. John knew that he had to get his place in Cambridge if he was to ever stand a chance at earning his doctorate. After all, it was something he had been working for since he first decided he wanted to be a doctor, all those years ago when he was in primary school. So when the opportunity arose for the chance of a scholarship at Cambridge, John seized it.

It goes without saying that he swotted for it. Day and night on end he would lock himself in his bedroom and read and re-read every single study book he could get his hands on. He even read and re-read the medical dictionary around seven or eight times until he knew it almost by heart.

That was three years ago, and now here he was, walking across the courtyard and to the dorms that had been his home for the past two years. It was tough, the classes were hard and the exams were strenuous but John made it his mission to pass all his classes with flying colours. In the past years, his dorm room had not changed any huge amount. The first few months, it was practically bare, he had no furniture at all, expect for a bed, bathroom and a few other necessities. But now, it was finally finished and it looked just as any students room should. A double bed pushed into the corner, the headboard was crammed with stickers, and notes left over the terms; a plain and standard bedside table cluttered with old odds and ends left over the holidays. There was a simple wooden dresser and matching wardrobe on the far side of the room. The wardrobe was in the same state as the head board. Old stickers that has started to lose their 'stick' were slowly peeling from the doors, leaving a slight residue. And finally, under the cross hatched window, with a view of the courtyard, was a metal computer desk that was now crammed pack with all the text books and journals that John would be required to use for the year, as well as a computer, which was slowly beginning to become lost under the books and paper work.

"Hey John." A small voice came from the door behind him. He turned and saw his friend Molly Hooper standing, leaning against the door way. "How was your summer?"

Molly was a small and timid looking girl; her brown hair was pulled to the side in a tail that rested on her shoulder and stopped halfway down her thin arms. John first met Molly in college and they had a few classes together, mainly Biology, Chemistry and Physics. Those were her three main subjects, because unlike any girl he had ever came across, Molly Hooper wanted to be a scientist. More specifically, she wanted to be a Pathologist. She always said that she could never work with people as she wasn't that keen on large crowds or speaking in public, so what better career to choses than a one where the people you spend each and every day with are laying on an autopsy table.

"It was okay, considering…"

"Yeah. I heard."

That was the thing John loved about Molly. She was always there to confide in, and he felt that he could trust her with anything. So when his teenage sister was arrested for being drunk and disorderly and John desperately needed someone to talk to after returning home once having paid her bail, he called Molly and unlike his parents, she listened.

Molly was a pretty girl, she was an obvious beauty and she certainly did not like to show herself off. But under those multiple layers of jumpers, blouses and leggings, she was a very attractive girl. Not that John was interested. You see, John was interested in relationship. Well, relationships with woman to be exact.

There were only a select few people who knew of his sexuality, Molly being the first. His two other closest friends, Mike Stamford and Mary Morston, they also knew and they were very accepting, they all were.

"Come on, I'll walk you to class." John said grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair where he had thrown it upon entrance. For being the middle of September, it was bitter cold and so John was wrapped up like a fractured skull in a long sleeved shirt, jeans with his lace up suede boots and his fighter jacket. "What do you have first?"

"Physics." They left and closed the door behind them. "You?"

"History."

* * *

><p>History class hadn't really changed since last year. It was a two hours sitting in a freezing cold lecture hall with a teacher standing by a board, droning on and writing dates down.<p>

John had no interest in History, none at all. But when he won his scholarship, he had to choose three subjects to study. He had already selected Biology and Physical Education, and history seemed to be the only subject that didn't clash with his other choices.

Finally, the two hours dragged to a close and it was now eleven o'clock. John's next lesson was Physical Education and today they were doing an intense training course. It was probably the worst thing he had endured that morning, worse than history. You see, over the summer John hadn't exactly kept up with his usual physical routine. He had given up jogging and replaced it with walking to the kitchen to get food that he hoped would cure his hangover from the night before.

It was some comfort to see that he was not alone in this struggle. Everyone seemed to be in the same boat and feeling the strain. An hour and a half later, after completing the 800m running track about six times, John was glad when they called quits. He now had a free period until one, and he planned on spending it lounging under the huge oak tree in the centre courtyard and listen to his Walkman. He should probably study for his 'start of year' science test that he had the next lesson, but he couldn't really see that happening for very long.

He had been right. Studying had lasted all of thirty minutes before he let the book slid onto the grass. Now he was simply sitting back and listening to his music, mainly Prince and Blue Suede. More students had joined him in the courtyard, and he watched them as they went. It was pretty easy to pick out the fresh starters, mainly because they were sitting in groups but no one was talking to anyone.

John smiled, remembering his first couple of days when the only person he knew in the whole university was Molly and they only had one lesson together, four times a week. He turned his attention away from the herds of nervous students and was now focusing on the main gates, which were clearly visible at the bottom of the pathway.

A sleek silver car had pulled up to the gates, presumably it belonged to a well off family. The doors opened and two men climbed out. One was slightly older than the other, and dressed immaculately in a three piece suite, complete with a tie and black umbrella. John knew this man. Well he knew _of _Mycroft Holmes, they had never spoken before but he had seen him around and heard people talk about him, mainly Molly, the only reason being Mycroft was in her home room. If he hadn't known any better he could have sworn that Molly had a crush on him.

The man standing next to Mycroft, well he was _just _a man, he looked no older than twenty two or so. He did look older, but it may have been his height, as he stood over Mycroft by a good three or four inches. The man, who John could only assume was the younger brother, was incredibly lean, almost unhealthily so; John couldn't get a close enough look at him but he could make out the distinct dark curls atop his head.

A scream next to him pulled his attention from the gate and to a crowd of girls on the far side of the yard. They were all embracing one another, obviously excited to be seeing each other again. John looked back to the gates and both men were gone and the back end of the car was just leaving his sight.

* * *

><p>Science was next for John, and today it was Biology. He was sitting at his usual work bench, the seat next to him vacant as his lab partner Mike was absent. The test had started almost as soon as they entered the room and John was about three questions in when the classroom door opened and in strolled the head mistress with the lean man from earlier. They head mistress whispered something to the teacher and gave the student a pat on the shoulder.<p>

"Class. We'll stop the quiz for now and pick it up later. We have a new student today, joining us from Oxford."

All eyes were now on the 'fresher' and John was able to get a good look at him. It was funny how closer, he did not seem as tall as he did earlier. Granted he was still a good half foot above John but then again, most people were. He wasn't exactly the tallest, nor the smallest either. His skin was incredibly pale, not paper white or sickly pale, but it did seem that he hadn't seen any sun his entire life. There were three distinct things about him that John zoned in on straight away.

The first was mainly because he couldn't help but notice that he kept chewing on his lower lip or sucking at it, but his upper lip had a very impressive cupids bow.

The cheekbones were heavily defined, sculpted almost and they pushed his eyes up ever so slightly into a squint.

Speaking of his eyes. They were a mixture of piercing blue and vibrant green and a hint of gold. John was taken back when the student suddenly looked in his direction and they locked in an awkward eye contact. John looked away instantly but glanced up moments later and locked eyes again. This time he didn't look away, but the student did.

"Sherlock, why don't you go and sit over there." The teacher motioned to the empty work bench that was positioned in front of John and Mike's station. Sherlock? What a curious name. He supposed it was unusual.

Sherlock took his seat and the class resumed, the teacher place a test paper in front of Sherlock and told him not to worry if he couldn't answer everything. John focused on his paper and was getting into the swing of things. That was until Sherlock raised his hand with a completed test paper in his clutch.

That was impossible. It must have taken him all of ten minutes to answer all twenty questions; John was only on question seven. It took him about twenty more minutes to finish his paper and all the while he could not take his off Sherlock's back. How could he have possibly done it?

After half an hour, everyone had handed in their papers and the teacher stood in front of the black board. "Alright, everyone working in their usual pairs, I want you to work out the answer to this equation."

She quickly scribbled a chemical equation on the board in chalk and the class set to work trying to decode it. Everyone apart from John and Sherlock that was, for you see, in the time it had taken Sherlock to walk from his station to John's he had already figured out the answer and had it written down before he had even say down.

John stared at the paper in disbelief. The answer was right, but he couldn't believe how quick he had completed it. He looked at Sherlock, who was sitting straight backed in his chair with his fingers linked together resting on his lap. He was staring straight ahead, at the wall, at nothing but John could see in his eyes that he was deep in thought, his pupils were pulsing slightly and his lips were twitching as if he were talking to himself.

"So, Sherlock." John found himself speaking before he knew it. Sherlock still remained forward. "You went to Oxford?"

"Yes. Although Miss Turner did tell you all that." He spoke at last, and John was surprised at how deep his voice was. No offence to Sherlock but if John had to judge his appearance, John would have taken one look at the button down shirt, cardigan and dress pants and the brogues and thought that he would come out with a strangely high voice. But no, this was the complete opposite.

"Yeah. I suppose she did." John didn't really know what to say, but he wanted to be friendly. Sherlock sighed loudly and turned his full body to face John. "If you're going to do that, can you please do it quietly?"

John was confused. "Do what?"

"Thinking. It's annoying."

"Oh." Was all John said. It was he could say as a few seconds later the bell that called lunch rang through the corridors and Sherlock, along with half the class were out of their seats and headed for the door in seconds. By the time John had collected his bag and books, he was long gone. He was still busy looking over student's heads that he hadn't noticed Molly and Mary approach him.

"Earth to John." Mary called, waving a hand to his face. John blinked and turned his attention to his friends. "Lost you for a second there mate." She laughed.

John smiled and the three of them headed to the canteen for lunch. But John still couldn't shake the feeling that was now running through his body.


End file.
